Musician's Muse
by ExileFromLife
Summary: Even in the Organization, a musician needs a muse to get him out of the darkness that surrounds him. The story is better than the summary Slight AU, Zemyx, rated M for a reason!
1. The Time of My Life

A/N: Same Story as before, but MUCH better! I'd like to thank my wonderful beta/co-writer, **I am and I**, for helping me so much with this one. Seriously, I gave her a page of story, and she turned it into this beauty. So, anyway, please review!

There is a theme song for every chapter, and, if you look at my YouTube account ( www (dot) youtube (dot) com/user/ElianaRei ), and go into the playlists, there is one called 'Musician's Muse. In order, it's the Main Theme, Prologue, Chapter 1, Zexion's Theme, Chapter 2, Demyx's Theme, Chapters 3, 4, & 5, Interlude, Chapters 6-10, Interlude, Chapter 11-15, Interlude, Chapters 16-20, Epilogue, and Ending Theme. Please, please, listen to the songs and speculate D

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot of this fanfic.

xXx

Demyx noted idly that the storm that had blustered through so unannounced had begun to drift off into the distance. The fall of snowflakes began to taper off to nothing and the rolling bite of thunder receded toward the horizon. Within minutes, the rushing clouds scrabbled away from the round face of the moon, and it spilled its pure silver-blue light down on the blanketed ground below.

The blond smiled delicately, watching every snow-drenched piece of landscape light up like quicksilver. In this space, a small rabbit seized the opportunity and bolted from safety to cross the span of snowdrifts. The blond's smile deepened, gained a wicked edge as he watched the fox just behind gather himself for the chase. It was a beautiful thing, the uncoiling of that lean, canine body as the pretty little red-furred fox landed on the rabbit and snapped its neck without any undue fuss or ceremony. Perfection.

Simple and elegant, just the way it should be, and a perfect example of the way the world around them turned. Those who didn't hunt and kill were hunted and killed for food and sport, and even going up the ladder, there was always something bigger and nastier to keep the lower rung in check. To put it simply, if you didn't eat meat, you ended up someone else's meat.

It was the rule of the Organization as well, he thought. Just the way it was. Xemnas was the top of the chain, fierce and deadly, a Great White in a Guppy-pond, commanding respect with the mere bat of a silvery-gray eyelash. Unfortunately for Demyx, though, he was the bottom of the bottom: that scared little guppy swimming between everyone else's teeth.

Morbid thoughts aside, though, he found himself smiling as he turned to lay eyes upon his lover, sighed as happily as a nobody can. Zexion merely stared at him with stormy eyes and curled tighter beneath the three or four odd comforters he'd pulled out of the closet for the occasion. It was different for the two of them… they had different sets of teeth looming over them… Where Xemnas was Zexion's biggest problem – the great white to Zexion's guppy, to keep the example going – Marluxia was Demyx's. But all that… it was all distant to him.

All that mattered to him, at this point, was Zexion.

"I," Zexion began, putting some stress on the first word, "do not enjoy being likened to a Guppy, I will have you know, Nine." His tone was sleepy, though, and didn't come off half as harsh or disdainful as it would have in any other circumstance. There was a subtle glimmer in his dark, almost opaque, glassy eyes and Demyx cocked his head a little, patted the open space on the window-seat next to him.

Zexion heaved what sounded suspiciously like a frustrated sigh and rose, pale and bare in the half-light of his ever-darkened quarters. He gathered up a thick blanket and wrapped it around himself – more to keep warm than to be modest – and slipped absolutely silently to lover's side. He sat in that same graceful, mannerly way that he always did, spine ramrod straight and far-seeing eyes fixed on some unknown point outside the glass. Demyx tugged him down against his own body and hummed.

"Fine," he chuckled to the slate-haired man's sullen face, "You can be a Mako if you think a guppy doesn't fit. They're one of the fastest in the sea, you know…" He then proceeded to smile evilly.

"I don't appreciate that," Zexion replied tersely. "That was very underhanded, but I guess it will suffice for now." He came within millimeters of relaxing against the blond's chest, eyes half-lidded and tired. The blond shrugged a little, brushing fingertips lightly over a fine cheekbone.

He could imagine them together… and it wasn't the usual sort of longing… He could care less about having hearts if they could just be together out snowboarding and ice-skating… They would have a snowball fight, and Demyx would pummel him because he'd be able to borrow Old Man Winter's talent, and when they got sick of doing that, they'd come back in for home-made chocolate with the little marshmallows on top, maybe even vanilla whipped cream…

His plans for the rest of the day, though… those were the real ones… He could almost taste lover's skin, and feel his small hand pressed tight at his chest… They would make love on the scratchy rug in front of the fireplace until Demyx's back went raw and numb. Ink, blood, saltwater and sex… Zexion's eyes would catch the firelight and reflect back orange, blacken his irises like wet charcoal, and Demyx's would dull and darken gray with little hints and flecks of blue like the sky during a hurricane. Demyx would rise and ebb like the tide and Zexion would control it all, gasping and gritting his teeth and they would both try to hang on, breathing in boiling hot passion swirling on the air like an element of its own. Demyx would scream.

Oh yes, Demyx would cry and moan and wail until his throat went raw from it… they both came, nearly in the same breath, and they would lay in a tangle of limp, sticky limbs, panting and gasping against sweat-slick skin.

Ink. _Thick black staining leaves of aged paper… the smell of a library or a new book._ Blood. _Crimson-cast salt, iron, more refined than sweat and sea. _Saltwater. _Warm and wet with a bite entirely unlike sweat, clinging to hair and skin and staying, clinging almost desperately. _Sex. _Heavy raw smell on the air, so heavy you can almost taste it… almost feel it…_

In the deepest recesses of their small sanctuary, they would find some solace in each other's bodies… their own memories. To anyone foolish enough to trespass, nothing but roiling black current and tide would rise to meet them. Lances of heat and pain, agony, turmoil, tumult… the best of these things. It'd be a hell to anyone else, but to them… not so much.

They would simply look the other in the eyes and smile so softly and politely. Damn the world and let it burn, just as long as they were happy.

Zexion blinked slowly, then glanced up, brow sharply creased. He wasn't looking all that convinced of all this planning. "Demyx, I must admit…" he mumbled, "You have quite the imagination… And you think in crayon drawings, so I'm asking you to cease and desist if you will." He sighed and stretched a little, pressed closer, this time fully resting against Demyx's chest. "Also, I think I might participate with the last part… the fireplace part… the rest…" he shivered a little and shook his head, "You know I absolutely detest the cold."

The blond chuckled and shrugged slightly, smiling brightly, then focused on the sea of silver-bathed white outside again. It took a long moment of silence before Zexion even moved.

Slowly, gracefully, he craned his neck and gently kissed the bottom of Demyx's chin, lifted himself and stood. "Come now, Nine, while weather still permits… We'll go ice-skating. I figure it's been years since the last time, so I'm curious as to whether or not I can still do it at all."

Demyx grinned and jumped up eagerly. "Okay… and then what will we do after that?" he chuckled, glancing at the fireplace with a sort of giddiness.

"Oh," Zexion chuckled, a rare show of emotion for him. He dropped the blanket from around his shoulders and glanced back at the blond. "I'm sure you already have that figured out… the old fashioned way, I'm guessing… but I think I'll add my own little twists by the time we get down to it."

Demyx smiled. Life was definitely looking up right about now…


	2. The Devil Wouldn't Recognize You

A/N: So, here's Chapter 1. For those of you who found this from the old version, this is the same old version. It's been beta'd, once again, by **I am and I** (thanks bunches!).

A note: the chapter titles are the themes. The story theme is Dark Waltz, by Hayley Westenra (a few of you may know her from Celtic Woman). It fits well, so go to youtube and find it if you want to understand what goes through my mind while writing. Chapter 2 will be up shortly.

And, for my watchers, I apologize for flooding your inboxes with false hopes. I was having issues with the prologue, and yeah...this is the real 'chapter 2' (that's really chapter 1), and I apologize again for the inconvenience.

Disclaimer: Don't own squat.

†

Marluxia rolled his hips fluidly, provocatively to the music originating from Demyx's sweet hands, enjoying just that delightful sound and tense movement. Of all of them, Demyx always gave him the most pleasure, both physically and psychologically, and he didn't care what came up, he wasn't going to let him crawl away with anyone else. As far as he was concerned, Demyx was all his.

Xemnas, for all his lack of poetic talent, had an eloquence that couldn't be matched, and even for that shortcoming, he'd once made an analogy that Marluxia had grown quite fond of over his time spent in the Organization so far. Xemnas had looked to the pink haired man with his chin perched on a fist, leaning into the arm of his chair and tapping his foot almost impatiently. Saïx looked like he felt nervous and Marluxia still smiled small and cocky even though the equally powerful – though shorter – man seemed uncomfortable.

"Marluxia," he had said softly, though his voice was still slick and boomingly loud in the comparatively small confines of the library, "You are much like a plant I've been reading about… _Dionaea Muscipula_. I'm sure you recognize the name."

Marluxia had nodded slowly, respectfully. It was easy. "Yes, Superior… The Venus Flytrap. It's a relatively common house plant," he replied sweetly. He would have taken offence at how common it really was but he reminded himself that Xemnas was probably not really deep into gardening or Horticultural work of any sort.

"Yes… you remind me of this Venus Flytrap," he repeated quietly, looking up and fingering his chin thoughtfully, "Because you have the curious habit of keeping a strangle-hold on whatever you find interesting enough to bestow with a second glance. It's strikingly similar to what a Venus Flytrap does to an insect foolish enough to land in its trap. Not even spiders are safe…"

Marluxia had been tickled by that one, even if he really didn't like the Superior all that much. He wasn't quite superior enough to bear the title, and Marluxia just wasn't one to take orders… Oh was a terrible thing, this Megalomania that just made him want to kick against the pricks wherever they appeared. His pride wanted him to be the one with the bullwhip and the charming grin for all his sad little slaves.

Let Zexion call him a narcissist. Marluxia knew well what he was, and fortunately Demyx did too, though it bugged him that the music stopped some time ago and he hadn't really noticed. The pretty blond was staring up questioningly, blue-green eyes flat and shallow as one of Naminé's crayon drawings of a puddle. Marluxia smiled slow and lazy, his own deep sapphire eyes glittering appealingly as he knelt on the bed next to his little lover. He leaned forward slightly, powerful frame bunched as if to pounce and almost threatening him, maybe daring him to try and get away.

Demyx, adorable little thing he was, let his sitar dissipate into a vapor and flopped fluidly down onto the sheets, pulling the older pink-haired man down with him. His hands instantly began to roam as his wiry-thin legs tangled with Marluxia's.

And who was this lovely Flora nobody to complain? He chuckled darkly while Demyx silently worshipped his body with blind fervor. No, none of this was his fault, Demyx's seeming addiction to the flat planes, hard angles, smooth curves of pale skin and well balanced, light, delicate/strong bones. They both know he was a sadist, and yet Demyx always came crawling back for more even when he did leave so many dark, cloudy bruises on that fish-flesh-pale skin that hadn't been there before Demyx had so gracelessly descended into his bed.

Oh, he couldn't help it, what with the sounds the blond made… It was just too good to pass up, and Demyx was _his_.

†

Zexion huffed a frustrated little sigh and rolled his eyes as he made his way stiffly down the hall. This rare show of "emotion" was the result of a stray glance from the blond they called Demyx. Ever since he'd first arrived, he'd made it a point to be as reclusive and hard to approach as ever. A whole day had passed since the last almost hopeful looking glance and… well… nothing at all. No "Hello, how are you doing?" or "Hey there! I'm Demyx! What's your name?" It was the same sheepish smile and rapid exit as he slithered off to hide. He gave the air a curious whiff, very nearly losing his composure and cringing as that terrible sickening-sweet floral smell assailed his sharp nose. There was nothing else like it, so strong and feminine that he almost wished it hung on Larxene, but unfortunately for all of them, she only smelled like cruelty and ozone.

But there was another scent: one he'd gotten fairly addicted to – though it hadn't caused any embarrassing mishaps yet the way Saïx's had in his first few months – and he could identify even if Lexaeus's dirty gym-socks had been stuffed over his face to muffle it.

Nitrogen. Heavy elemental haze and slight salt tang inside of a smooth, fresh roll of a downpour of rain. He smelled like that first gust of wind before a storm blowing in from the sea.

It was Demyx. He scowled sharply and stormed to his room, slammed the door hard behind him and spitting a small hissing curse as the walls seemed to bow around him, shadows twisting and coiling as if in agony.

If that cocky bastard Marluxia thought he was going to collar and muzzle that blond, he was in for a nasty surprise. This time Zexion had seen enough. He was sick of this same old song and dance. It was time for some fresh music, and with any luck, the obligatory fighting bard would cooperate. He just seemed too sensible to fall into that pit, even if he was a bit naïve.

But Zexion was feeling a bit awkward. He shouldn't be upset. For one, he didn't have the facilities to feel upset. It was foolish of him to even bend to these odd urges to try and feel something when there was nothing but silence and static to go on. He was smarter that that. Also, he had no reason to be upset with Marluxia even if he did have the capacity to be upset. Marluxia had done nothing to affront him in any way nor had he insulted him and he couldn't even really say he was upset at his firm stance as a separatist of sorts… Also, there was the distinct fact that Demyx could well have come to Marluxia on his own…

It shouldn't bother him, but somehow, it just popped his little pride soufflé, bruised his untouchable, non-existent ego, stepped on all ten of his toes even though he figured he probably didn't even have toes to step on in the first place… And that only served to aggravate him further.

With surprising force, Zexion slammed his gloved fists down on the desk and incited a flurry of papers to rise and take flight, twisting and coiling around him like a flock of frightened doves. He was now furious with the realization that Demyx had never been forwarded to him for questioning. Sure, Vexen, say you covered it all, but hell, that wasn't the point! And now here was Marluxia playing god and deciding when he ate, slept, and breathed! He had no right! If anything, Zexion felt that it was his right to dictate Demyx's movements, not this foolish _neophyte's_!

He continued his little mental rant until his attention was quite rudely stolen by a paper that whizzed by his face a little too close, catching his unprotected cheek at just the right angle. A hand instantly jumped to the slice, and he cursed quietly, temper subsiding somewhat. He withdrew his fingers and frowned coolly at the dark little beads of blood clinging to the leather. With a few ineffectual curses, he drew the fingers to his lips and dug through one of his desk drawers for a gauze pad – yes, he was anal like that and kept a first-aid kit in nearly every general area of his room or any room he happened to work in, for that matter.

Zexion unwrapped the sterile package, pressed the strip to his cheek. Yes. He could say he and Marluxia had been at odds since the neophyte's arrival. He regarded the pink-haired man as a treacherous snake, and Marluxia though him little more than an aphid; easily exterminated. No amount of consolation or efforts for peace by either party had been successful and they'd finally gotten over it and called it quits. There was no way. They were too different.

All-out vendetta had been a step easily taken by Marluxia, however. He did not play by the rules even if he was the one who had originally set them out. He had taken it upon him to smear Zexion's name to the best of his ability – since he was the most trusted and well-spoken of the original members – and generally just tried to hinder Zexion's natural ability to lead… He tried to undermine Zexion's _authority_, and Zexion did not like this at all. Space-blue eyes fell shut and Zexion slumped down into his chair tiredly, sighing as the swarming cloud of papers fluttered to the floor.

He sorted fitfully through the papers on his desk that Vexen was always leaving and he never even looked at anyway. Didn't need too. It was nice to be a people-watcher of his caliber, though he did get distracted from time to time. He paused and lifted one, noting the smiling face on it. Demyx. Pretty blond, blue eyed, sweet boyish Demyx. He mumbled yet another curse and flipped the paper over.

Sharp eyes snapped back and forth, following neatly printed lines – Vexen was so goddamn anal about _everything_ – and finally stopped on that last lame line. Lame. It was a good word for this kid from top to bottom. What with his more filled-out build, Zexion had been expecting more.

Element: water. Weak.

Weapon: _Sitar_? What the hell was a _sitar_? Crap. Though wasn't anything better than a _book_? What could you do with a book? Throw it? He sighed and gave up on his little act, let his body go limp, slamming his head down on the desk with a harsh sigh.

_Tired…_

Whatever. Damage done. He wouldn't even be talking to the boy any time soon anyway, what with Marluxia practically sitting on him like a mother hen. He figured he should probably go in the bedroom to do this, dragged himself inside, slammed the door and locked it not once or twice, but thrice, flopped down in a haphazard sprawl on the deep blue-violet bedspread and closed his eyes.

Number nine. Odd. Could odds and evens get along, he wondered.

He dragged the pillow down and scrunched it up in his arms perched his chin on it. He had a lot to worry about and generally mull over still, but he figured sleep was more important at this point, so he slept.

†

Demyx was careful to slip out of Marluxia's bed in complete silence. Better to let that lion lie than to wake him and be subjected to another round, though he was frightfully unsure of whether he wanted to do that or not… Well, there was also a pretty good chance Marluxia would just whine, and though he didn't at all seem the whining type, when he did, it was horrible. He carefully gathered up his clothing and slipped into the antechamber, dressed quickly, then left Marluxia's quarters entirely with an unhappy sigh.

As much as he liked Marluxia, the guy was a bit controlling. Well… a bit was an understatement. Demyx still couldn't figure out how the collar got around his neck or when and where he started liking being beaten senseless with the cane of a dressage whip. Not that it wasn't fun… it just left awkward marks is all. And there was also the fact that Demyx never _asked_ for any of this… It just kind of… well… _happened_.

He'd been around for some time… and yet Marluxia could drag him around by his tail and do these sorts of things to him… Things were getting far out of hand, and yet he didn't really know how to say no. He wasn't sure if he _wanted_ to say no. He needed guidance.

Over the long time he'd spent here, he'd figured out who was useful and who wasn't. He ticked them off on his hands. Xemnas was a no-no. Off-limits. Xigbar was a great guy, but he was more the type to drink with and get girl-advice from. Anything else tended to come at a price. Xaldin… well… Xaldin was a nice guy, but sometimes he was just… eerie. They'd never gotten much past small-talk though he was apt to help with anything involving reports and things requiring technical experience. Vexen was mean. End of story. Lexaeus… nice guy, good teacher, but he didn't want to bother him with something this trivial. Saïx… was too grumpy. And he would probably just find some excuse to fight with Marluxia since they didn't like each other at all. Axel… Too much fire. No. Fire bad. Luxord didn't like him much and his information came at far too high a price. Marluxia was the problem in the first place and he and Larxene just got along too well for him to try and ask her anything.

And that left one person: Zexion.

He frowned. They'd never really talked. In fact, he was a little afraid of him… But he figured he'd give it a shot. Had to try everything at least once in life. How bad could he possibly be?


End file.
